


peter and tony

by heavensenq



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensenq/pseuds/heavensenq
Summary: the last time peter parker will hear tony's voice. and he doesn't even know it.





	1. the final call.

The heat is stifling, but he's shivering, listening to his shallow breaths against his mask. The phone is ringing, over and over, the jarring sound reverberating in his ears. _Come on, come on, pick it up._

The sky is now a dark charcoal grey, and the lights below are dim and blurred. The phone picks up.

'..Mr Stark?'

'Hi kid,' He closes his eyes, blocking out the bustling city below.

'Are you okay, Mr Stark? Do you need any-' 

'No, no, it's all right Peter. I- I was just wondering how you were getting on? Catching up with your schoolwork I hope?' He allows himself a weak laugh.

'Oh yes, I've got it all under control. Are you sure you don't need my help, Mr Stark? I can come over right now if you need me? There must be something I can do, I mean, come on, I defeated Captain America!' He smiles to himself, he can almost hear the quivering anticipation through the line.

'I'll be alright, I'm sure,' 

_He's heard this sentence coming out of his mouth so many times, never once verging on the truth._

'Oh, but Peter?'

'Mr Stark?'

'Don't do anything stupid, promise me that? Be careful, alright?'

'Okay, uh..sure, I promise,'

A bleak silence follows- 'Mr Stark, are you there?'

Tony doesn't say anything. He can just hear the faint noises of the busy city below from up here.

'Good luck, Mr Stark,'

'Peter?' The call has ended. Let it go, Stark.

'I love you, son.'


	2. peter at tony's grave.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony is dead, and peter is inconsolable.

The sky is a muddy grey against the dull skyline. I shift in my suit- it is new, expensive and very uncomfortable. My hands are shaking. There are little marks where I have pressed my nails into my palms in order to stop myself crying. My shoe scuffs against the car's leather interior. My fingers tap against my leg, impatient. My vision is getting cloudier; my cheek is wet, and I wipe it on the cuff of my sleeve. The material scratches my face.

The car comes to an abrupt halt, and I jerk upwards. The man opens the door for me- I think it might be Happy, I'm not sure. I thank him in a flat voice and get out. I stand there for a while; there are people talking to me, so I nod and thank them for being here. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Happy lookes down at me, his face is grim, eyes steely. 'Take it easy, kid,' he says. That's all anyone says nowadays. It's like they don't know what else to say. Amazing Peter Parker, they say, teen prodigy, Stark's protégé, saved the world, died and came back. Poor Peter Parker, they say, who lost his parents, then his uncle, and now his mentor. 

People are shaking my hand, asking how I am, how it is such a waste, how they knew him better than anyone could. 

His grave is black with gold writing.

_in loving memory_

_Anthony Edward Stark_

_1970-2019_

_a teacher, a mentor, a trailblazer_

There are already bunches of flowers- enough to open a shop, little notes, even several Iron Man action-figures. I stand there awkwardly, legs trembling. I start twisting my hands around; the back of my neck is burning. 

'Hey, Peter.' The voice is familiar, comforting. I turn around. Rhodey. He gives me a brittle smile, then quickly readjusts his expression to one of concern. 'You been getting your sleep?' I shake my head. He smiles, nods. 'Me neither,' I shuffle uncomfortably. He puts his hand on my shoulder. 'Peter, listen. Look after yourself, please. I know it seems like the end of the world now, but-' His voice breaks. I look up, surprised. His face, usually stoic, is flushed with emotion. He blinks quickly. 'People care about you Peter. They don't want you to throw your life away. Tony would never have wanted that.' I nod glumly. He smiles at me again. I turn away. The sky is looming; a wet-pavement grey.

'He said to me once- he said he thought of you as his kid. I thought he'd want you to know that.'

My eyes are burning. I keep wiping my palms on the sides of my jeans but my hands are so clammy, and I can barely see. I look at the grass, the tears dripping onto the fancy black shoes that May got me. The air is filled with chatter- it annoys me. I wish they would all shut up, show some respect, for God's sake. It makes my ears buzz. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

'Peter!' 

Strong arms grip around me, and I let myself fall into them. I concentrate on calming my breathing to the rate of his. 'Kid..I'm sorry. I really am,' I can feel the wetness transfer to his shirt, and I look up, embarassed. His beard is long and uneven, and there is a long thin cut running down the side of his nose. He smiles at me- it is small but genuine, and there is no pity. I smile back at him, small and shaky, but still there. 'I miss him,'

'Me too, kid,'


End file.
